


Girl of Glass

by ziegler



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Murder, Obsessive Behavior, Romance, Sex, Smut, idk what to tag adella as other than "incredibly hot insane lesbian"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 22:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziegler/pseuds/ziegler
Summary: Adella has always been fragile, and desperately wants the brave Hunter to break her.





	Girl of Glass

The Nun of the Healing Church, Adella, was fragile. _Is_ fragile. That was something that her mother had always told her - that she was easily shattered into pieces. Her emotions were what made her fragile, like glass or butterfly wings. Not fond of violence or confrontation. Sensitive to the misfortune of others, and a disdain for the unpleasant. Adella was the epitome of a girl of glass.

She never quite understood what that had meant life would really be like for her. Not back _then_ , anyway. They were naiver, simpler times. These were the days where she could spend them with ease, picking at the snowdrop flowers in the Workshop's yard, or talking to the rambunctious Choir girl that she had taken a fancy to. But nowadays, things were worse. Everything she had ever known had fallen to pieces. Things were so much worse for Adella; both inside and outside of her skull.

Today, the moon had turned red, and the streets below the daunting steps of the Cathedral Ward were writhing with the shambles of afterlife. Disgusting, misbegotten beings that she knew shouldn't be allowed to exist, and were good for little more than bile and blood. Her feet had hammered down the stone steps of the Ward just minutes ago, racing from her self-designated quarters all the way to the outside; into the blustering leaves, the stench of death, and the potent burn of candlewax.

“No!” she cried, and found herself hysterical. “No, no! No!”

Adella knew that this red moon was the sign of something she didn't want. The _end_ of the Hunter's Dream? She refused to believe it. It couldn't be. She wouldn't let the Hunter out of her sight, not after all that they had been through together.

With raised arms to the red moon above, Adella found herself quietly bathing in its glimmer. The material of her robe was still damp from the days earlier events, and she knew she finally smelled like the rest of this place. The now overly familiar stench of copper and sin that had plagued her all this time.

What would the Church truly think of her now?

“Please,” she begs to whatever resides inside that moon; her palms crimson from the touch of her robe. “Please bring my Hunter home once more.”

Something that Adella found about being a part of the Church was that it always gave her a _purpose_. After all, was there a bigger honour in this world than to be able to bestow her blood to another? Was there ever going to be a bigger honour for anyone, to be able to give your blood to a Hunter? A person, a soul so brave, so noble and determined, that they would save the world from this nightmare? That was surely the message of the Healing Church. And what better way to serve those that would follow willingly in Ludwig's footsteps than to give yourself unto them?

That was what Adella had always told herself. The blood of the Healing Church was a commodity so addictive, so potent, that it could save thousands from obscurity. The women that came and went through the Workshop were seemingly endless – but to Adella, they were all fools.

They were all just far too _eager_. They were all bright and willing to receive such blessed blood, and know nought of what to do with it. _The thirst for blood satiates us; soothes our fears._ Those of the Church, after all, were pure; Laurence was right. The old blood was a miracle. But the people that had come through this place before were not worthy of receiving it.

Their deaths had been their atonement.

But all was not lost. There was still to be another that made Adella's heart flutter and pulse with longing.

She felt the tears stinging at the edges of her eyes as she glared up at the moon before her.

“I can't help myself...” she trembles. “I have to do this...”

The world did not remain as it should have, and instead had tumbled into madness, bringing all those inside with it. Adella hated waking up in cold sweats against an even colder floor, remembering the way that she had been thrust into that dirty sack and dumped in the farthest reaches of Yahar'gul. God, that dreadful place. The untouched, unwashed masses of beasts, dragging their claws and flicking their spittle in shambling walks, drooling and snarling their way across the streets. Adella winced as she remembered the crack of bones echoing through the halls, and bringing with them the screams of the unfamiliar. She remembered the sound of her own heart thumping. The sound of brittle pottery breaking as she ran to hide behind it. And what was she to do, had the Hunter – _her_ Hunter - not come along to save her?

Surely, Adella thought, meeting her was fate. It had to be. After all, fate was all there was to be certain of in this place. This woman was her own.

Adella remembered the instantaneous nature of her obsession blooming. She knew it was dangerous, but she also didn't care. A reason to believe; a reason to live. And she remembered, completely and clearly, just how she had so eagerly allowed that belief into her being, and her slender fingers to linger against the then unknown woman's face, cupping and pawing at her skin in an almost desperate motion.

“You've come to save me...!”

The Hunter before her had not minded that she was near hysterical.

The small, stone walls that were once closing in on her now seemed so wide. Adella had pulled down the material obscuring the area beneath the Hunter's nose, and gasped upon seeing a handsome, haunted visage. Eyes illuminated by dull lanterns, and glimmering beneath them like pools of sunlight. The Hunter's skin seemed as soft as the snowdrops she used to pick, and she could see the slice of a scar against her top lip.

 _Was this the one?_ Adella remembered thinking. _Beneath these dull lamp-lights and the guttural growls surrounding us, is this the woman I didn't know I was searching for?_

Adella thought so. And for a while, The Hunter didn't seem to mind putting aside her god-given duty for a little while to spend their time together.

The Cathedral Ward held many secrets inside of its walls. Adella knew that, if only by experience. She felt a shudder as she stood reminiscing here, in the moonlight; her arms, still raised in the bitter winds, remembering every inch, every touch, every single patch of the Hunter's body she had been privy to. The scent of her...that unfamiliar, warm smell of burned wood and old cinnamon. The woman she had been so in love with in a heartbeat.

Adella had started their relationship with the only way she knew how. The thing that only she could give.

“The only thing I can offer is my own lowly blood...” she had said politely; huddled in a damp stone corner of the Cathedral Ward, and looking down at the floor with a bashful gaze.

The silence that followed seemed almost deafening.

She remembered waiting for a reply from such a reserved woman. Her stomach churned a white fear that she had never felt before, gnawing at her insides with an acidic bite. Adella wasn't fully sure that The Hunter before her wasn't mute, as she had said so little since their first meeting.

“...If it would suffice...” she interjected into the silence hopefully.

Another pause. A gruff acceptance from behind The Hunter's scarf.

Adella remembered becoming dizzy with adoration.

“Yes, of course,” she remembered stammering, and rolling up her sleeve. “Come in close...now, take my blood...”

Adella remembered the slip of the needle going into her arm. _Therapeutic_. It was almost euphoric to be able to extract her blood. The only thing her fragile being was good for – and the purpose of where it was going was almost too much for her.

“...There,” she said in finality, and looked up at the Hunter shyly.

The Hunter had been grateful. She hadn't said so verbally, but Adella knew that she was.

Oh, how she loved her in all the time that followed. The ways that the Hunter would move; the swing of her large, serrated weapons against those that needed to be purged. And Adella would follow her, more often than not, just to watch how she operated. The dangers that the outside world presented were a thing of the past.

The Hunter was _marvellous_. Adella got shivers just watching.

Whenever the Hunter would become tired, there was a private lamp situated up in the higher realms of the Ward. Unknown by most, the Hunter went there to lay against the floor, resting her head against the jacket she had taken off; usually spattered in blood and dirt. There was little else in this room, save for a broken chest and old pottery resting in its corners.

As she stands in the moonlight, Adella remembers one night in particular that she always loves to think about.

A night where the Hunter didn't wake up right away, and a night where Adella was willing to take the risk on her obsession to do as she pleased. Well... _almost_ as she pleased at first, anyway.

The Hunter on this particular night was lay with her hat slightly covering her eyes. Her scarf was off; exposing the handsome, slightly scarred lower half of her face, and her shirt had ridden up in her sleep. Adella had crept up to the top of the staircase, peering as she so often did at the one she loved; and had found herself aghast in a delight she had never experienced.

“...Ahh...”

The Hunter's _skin_. Adella could _see_ it. She wanted to kiss it, to run her fingertips along it, to slip her hands somewhere that she could hardly bear to think of without wanting to die. And the Hunter seemed particularly tired today. The Dream was grating on all of them. How long had time been coiling itself around their necks?

Adella could hardly resist the inevitable.

She found herself tiptoeing over to the Hunter, and slipping herself atop her hips. A thigh squeezing either side of her waist, this in itself was a dream. Adella felt the laboured, quiet breaths slipping from her lips; the hot flush of her face as she sat. She dabbed at the edge of her lips anxiously, and her bun was falling out of its neatness; one or two messy strands hanging loosely against her cheek. Perhaps most unbearably, her hands were itching, aching to touch somewhere on the Hunter's body. But Adella knew that she couldn't. This moment was never going to come again.

“Ah-! Oh, no!”

The Hunter's eyes. They had opened.

The familiar pools of an amber sunset opening to look at the woman sitting atop her midriff uninvited. Adella had tried to stand up abruptly, embarrassed and ashamed and full of self-loathing. But the Hunter had not wanted her to leave. Her hand slipped around Adella's wrist, and kept her in place sitting on top of her. Adella gasped at the sensation.

The mutual string that bound them together was then unexpected desire for human contact. The sensation of another's skin pressing against their own; the slip of a rough palm against a fragile wrist. Adella could feel in between her legs throbbing, and that in itself made her bubble over with self-hatred. Could she not control her carnal desires? Could she really not restrain herself to _this_ degree?

“I apologize, I apologize,” she stammered profusely, clawing limply at the Hunter's grip. “Please, let me go!”

Adella remembered the stammering, and all of the initial fear; but what she remembers the most made her shiver in delight, standing here before the red of the moon in this moment. This was an irreplaceable memory; a memory that made sure she brought her hands over her arms, rubbing them intensely, and squeezing her thighs together with a red face beneath the crimson sky.

“Aah...” she grinned. “Oh, brave Hunter...”

The Cathedral Ward's favourite secret, thought Adella, was the moment she gave herself so completely to the woman she had been stalking in such a way.

The Hunter and her had abandoned their notion of loneliness for one moment during the Dream. And in that moment, Adella could never drag her thoughts away from how The Hunter's hands had wandered all over her body. Of course Adella had _let_ her. She, in turn, had done the same. She had never felt stripped of her robes before; the satisfying peel of the cloth that surrounded her limbs falling away, like a butterfly first emerging from its cocoon; and she had never felt the sensation of the unflatteringly cold stone floor of the Cathedral Ward's resting room.

But this was an opportunity that her body was refusing to allow her to miss. In between her legs ached at the thought of how the Hunter's lips had kissed her own. Softer than she had dreamed of, at first. Not nearly as gruff or rugged as she had expected the woman to be. Her hands were experienced and gentle against Adella's skin, and Adella felt almost guilty for the neediness she was demonstrating beneath the Hunter's body.

Her back was cold against the floor, but her body was warm with lust. Adella found her fingertips running themselves along the scars of the Hunter's – no, her Hunter's back, and her thighs clenching themselves against the contoured bone of her hips.

“Ah...” she trembled. “Oh...”

In between her legs was wet. Achingly so. _That_ was something Adella felt embarrassed about above all else – the visible admission that she was insatiable. She _wanted_ this Hunter to fuck her until she could see little else than stars. She wanted to feel the push and grope of her hands, the sensation of a snarl from the Hunter biting down, sinking into her shoulders like the beasts outside would have, only this would have been a welcome act of violence.

“Please,” Adella begged, and felt the messiness of her hair resting beneath her head. The Hunter kissed the spot on her shoulder where Adella wanted a bite. “Why don't you hurt me?”

“You are fragile,” the Hunter grunted out between the heat.

Adella gasped, and grabbed her face to pull her into a kiss hungrily.

The Hunter eventually began to get a little more rough in the same capacity that Adella so longed for. There came the push of sexual intercourse from her fingertips slipping inside of her, and the grunt that followed against Adella's lips. Adella remembered all of the sensations that sex involved; the slip of a slight sweat against her lover's back, and the aching sensation that her lips kept producing that had made her insatiable for kissing. The Hunter couldn't help but smirk at Adella's neediness; which had only prompted her into restraining a moan. Seeing the curve of the scar on the Hunter's lips in a smug expression meant that she finally begged the Hunter to fuck her as hard as she could with more than just her body movements beneath her.

But The Hunter didn't need any prompting. Adella muffled the cries of pleasure in the crook of the Hunter's neck, her legs clinging to either side of the Hunter's waist with each hard fuck, and her hands desperately bunched up in the tangled mess of her lover's hair.

She clung to her. The Hunter had lost themselves in the addictive nature of human contact as opposed to any blood-letting that Adella might have given instead. The Hunter fucked the Healing Church's Nun, hard and lustily, against the floor of the Cathedral Ward's upper room. Adella was already dying to have her lips between the Hunter's legs, and she herself hadn't finished off yet. But that thought was fleeting; as, for Adella, she almost scolded herself with how quickly she came to the rhythmic fuck of her Hunter. She wanted it to last _longer_. The Hunter atop of her body fell slack at feeling the Nun beneath her hit her climax.

Adella gasped for breath, but also gasped for deeper kisses. For more. For more of the Hunter's entire being. She didn't know how to describe her love. An obsession, a compulsive desire; a need that only one woman could fulfill. She had never experienced such depth of desire.

But after the physicality, and much to Adella's displeasure, The Hunter had been quite dismissive. She had not been interested in any returning act from Adella. The Hunter had returned to sleep as Adella left, giddy and aching with a glowing sensation.

In the days that followed in the Dream, Adella had lost count of how many times her lust consumed her. Her hand had often found its way between her own legs in private respite, dreaming of the moment her Hunter would touch her like that again. Her back arched and her mouth hung loose with each slow, lingering swirl of her fingertips around the sweetest spot between her legs.

“Please...” she always remembered shivering, “give me the courage...to return to you.”

But the second night's pleasure had never come, for Adella; and instead, all that had arrived in her world was a rival.

That dreadful woman.

She bites at her lip beneath the red moon so hard it draws blood.

That _woman_. Blonde, beautiful, and utterly, morally beneath her. Abhorrent in the eyes of the Church. In a world of abominations, this woman fit perfectly. A _whore_. A woman of the night that had no shame, and still had the nerve to offer her blood to the Hunter. What kind of a person was she, to ever think that Adella's Hunter would want _that_?

But she did.

The Hunter _did_ want her blood.

Adella scathingly remembers the blonde woman in the mauve dress that sat so daintily on the chair diagonal from Adella's usual position. Arianna, she angrily remembers. Oh, how she loved that the Hunter had chosen her above the Healing Church's own. Adella was sure of such a notion.

“Perhaps the Hunter was just in need of extra blood,” Adella had tried to convince herself, unsuccessfully. All that had happened in this attempt was a smashed pot and four hours of hysterical weeping atop the Cathedral Ward.

The fourth time that the Hunter had asked Arianna for her blood, Adella knew that she had to dispose of her.

“This is for the best.”

The knife that she had was sharp. The memories of the Hunter's body atop of her own were just as potent as they had been in the time they created them. The motive to kill was as strong as it was going to be.

As Adella stood before the red moon, she felt another shiver of delight take her. A grin erupts across her lips.

“Tee hee...” she giggles to herself.

The sensation that she felt upon the death of Arianna by her hand; there was truly no other sensation like it. The warm spurt of her blood...the blood that the Hunter has chosen above Adella's own, and the look of horror and confusion written across the pretty features of Arianna's face. Adella had gotten in close to her face before killing her; desperately trying to read the face of that which had stolen her love away; and the dagger had almost moved by itself.

“What...? What are you...” Arianna had stammered.

Adella said nothing, and enjoyed watched the light fading from her eyes.

There was nothing left for the Hunter now besides her. This dream would never end. She refused to let it.

And, as she stood still beneath the chilling light of the blood moon, bathed in all of her memories; she hears the familiar footsteps behind her come to a halt.

“Adella,” the woman's voice says in an almost shaking rage, echoing in the hallowed entrance of the Cathedral Ward.

Adella feels a delighted, smitten grin curve her lips up at the edges.

She cups her face before she turns around, and hears the feminine voice she loves usher out,

“What have you done?”

Tonight, the Hunter will never leave her side again – and for Adella, Nun of the Healing Church, knows one thing for certain alongside her obsession.

With a glass fragility comes a violent shatter.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this, then i'm happy to say i just finished writing my first game as part of Noodletub Games - and it's out on Steam right now! it's called The Ghost of You. if you want to sink your teeth into a suspense-horror-love story about an entirely lesbian cast, then please check it out [here](https://noodletub.tumblr.com/post/181306988281/the-ghost-of-you-out-now-on-steam)! thank you so much! ♥


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